In the Long Run

Paula Radcliffe of Great Britain had a triumphant moment of glory as she won the women’s division of the New York City Marathon last week. Only nine months after giving birth, Radcliffe completed the 26.2 mile course in two hours and 23 minutes.

I haven’t kept track of Radcliffe since watching the television coverage of her participation in the Olympics in Athens three years ago. It was an entirely different story then. Though a gold medal favorite, Radcliffe succumbed to the heat and stress of the Olympic course, and dropped out of the race about three miles from the end. As she sat on the curb, distraught and weeping, looking confused and disoriented, I could feel a bit of her pain and anguish, as I recalled a race breakdown of my own.

In 2003, I ran a marathon in Richmond, Virginia, with my daughter, L. She had agreed to stay with me the whole race, and be my pacer. L, a determined and driven runner, set our initial race pace at a little faster clip than that at which I was used to training. Her encouragement and companionship helped me maintain that pace, though it was not comfortable. As the miles rolled by, I could tell I was tiring faster than usual, my breathing was labored, and talking was an impossibility.

At about mile 19, L turned to me with concern and asked if I were OK. I can vividly remember the desperate feelings that overwhelmed me--panic, anxiety, doubt, fear. I I thought I couldn’t run one more foot, and I was not sure I could finish the race even if I walked. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, and gasping, I stopped running, and choked back sobs.

Although she was shocked and a little alarmed at my seeming collapse, L soothingly coached me through that horrible breakdown. She helped me clear my head, and got my legs moving again. She motivated me with her words and her confidence in me. She pulled me through until the end of the race, when we were able to share our moment of glory. We crossed the finish line together, with my fastest time ever, a personal record that still stands for me.

Like the peaks and valleys of the terrain on which we train, every runner has moments of both jubilant exultation and brutal despair, sometimes in a single race. Some of these moments we face alone, others we share with friends, family, and even competitors. In the long run, all of these experiences help shape and define our discipline, desire and will.

Posted by Cyppy at 3:25 PM